


A Good Man is Hard to Find

by overratedantihero



Category: Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Explicit-ish sex, FWB, M/M, PWP, So Much Gin, Very Drunk Author, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 16:40:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15295701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overratedantihero/pseuds/overratedantihero
Summary: Slade receives an emergency text from Dick, so of course he responds with earnest.





	A Good Man is Hard to Find

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry, but I am so drunk, so here you go.

Slade was not one to race rooftops, but here he was running across Gotham like a bat out of hell. And perhaps that was an apt metaphor, because he received the distress signal from Grayson almost an hour ago and he’d already thrown Red Hood off one building just to respond.

Grayson never used the distress signal.

Like the former Robin that he was, he was conditioned to manage on his own. He loathed to seek help unless he was managing the help, such as was the case with the Titans and the Outsiders and the Teen Titans. But clear as day, his voice (strained and small) range in Slade’s ear—

“ _Please_.”

Slade loved to hear his little bird beg, but not like this. Not under the neon potentialities that loomed ahead. Dick could be sick, he could be dying, he could be dead.

And when Slade wrenched open Dick’s window and rolled inside his apartment, he did expect the worst. Why else would the pretty bird call him when there was a roster of heroes who would die before seeing him harmed?

As it turns out, the answer came to Slade in the form of mostly empty gin and prosecco bottles. There was one of each, on the kid’s den table. Slade wandered past the evidences of a late night to pause in the kid’s bedroom threshold. He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms.

There, on the bed, Dick laid spread eagle. He was stroking himself, leisurely, with a flushed face and lightly parted lips. Whether the flush derived from alcohol or pleasure, Slade was keen to find out.

“This your emergency, kid?” Slade drawled, pointedly glancing up and down Dick’s body. Dick glanced at him and only grinned. Even if his eyes were dazed and drunk, it was a good look.

“Mmhm, maybe,” Dick sighed, arching off the bed now that he had an audience. Slade smirked.

“I threw your brother off a roof. Thought it was serious.”

Dick’s eyebrows furrowed. “Which one?” His hand paused, Slade didn’t like that.

“Jason.”

“Oh,” Dick breathed in relief. His hand picked up again. “Yeah, he’s fine. Don’t worry about him.”

Slade would have laughed, except he knew that if he had Dick would have jumped to Jason’s defense, ruining Slade’s suddenly productive evening. Instead, Slade removed his mask and began to undress, beginning with his gloves and boots. All the while, Dick watched him with a hunger he rarely elicited from the kid.

“This is a safehouse? You usually only let me into Bludhaven, little one,” Slade murmured conversationally, if only to distract Dick. If Grayson came before could finish undressing, he would be _annoyed_.

“No,” Dick gasped. “It’s my apartment. Sort of. Bruce pays the rent.” His breath hitched when he said “rent” and Slade finished undressing by tapping into his enhancements perhaps more than necessary. It was just a flushed cape. Just a flushed cape with pretty eyes and a moldable personality and a heart of gold that just _begged_ to be tarnished.

When Slade was down to his briefs, he crawled on the bed in his plain black briefs, straddling Dick’s legs, and loomed over him. “You been in the gin?” he asked, gently tilting Grayson’s chin up to expose the long column of his neck.

“Yeah. What’re you gonna do about it?” Dick snarked. Slade furrowed his brows and looked Dick up and down.

“What any good man would,” he cooed, before snagging both of Dick’s hands in one of his. He pinned them above Dick’s head and relished in Dick’s parted mouth and wide eyes. “Protect you from your own bad choices,” Slade whispered before nipping Dick’s jaw. Dick sighed, bucking his hips.

“Good men are just _so_ hard to find,” Dick cooed. He bucked again, this time managing to brush against Slade’s erect cock, straining against the fabric of his briefs. Slade smirked.

“’S that what you’ve been doing? Waiting on one to find you?” Slade let his other hand brush down Dick’s torso, briefly skim over the head of his cock, and then brush over his perineum. “Because I’m happy to oblige.”

Dick nodded wordlessly, mouth parting again. Slade bit his lip because it looked plush. Then he kissed Dick, roughly, biting his lower lip and kissing down his chin.

“Lube?” Slade asked. He should have been less surprised when Dick wiggled and pointed his nose at a bottle elsewhere on the bed. The kid was a bat, always prepared. Slade released Dick’s wrists to slick up his fingers, and Dick took the opportunity to trace the ridges and curves of Slade’s torso, leaning up to bury his face in Slade’s chest hair. Poor touch starved kid.

Slade pushed Dick back down on his back and slipped his hand underneath him, slipping two fingers inside of him. They slid in with ease, Dick had clearly opened himself up earlier. Slade laughed, a little deliriously even as Dick moaned.

“Damn, kid,” Slade hissed, pumping his figures. “Am I the only one you messaged?”

Dick spared a grin before Slade pushed against his prostate and his expression melted into that of pleasure once again. “Y-yes! ‘Course. Only one. Only one I trust to—f- fuck,” Dick gasped as Slade bore down. “Fuck, yeah, just—just like that!”

Slade bit Dick’s neck, right above where he knew Dick’s Nightwing’s suit would cover. “Finish your sentence, brat,” Slade murmured against Dick’s skin.

“To—to fuck me like this,” Dick sighed as Slade added a third finger. “No one fucks me like you do,” Dick cooed, eyes closed, long lashes nearly resting on his cheeks.  “Only you, only you, only you.”

Dick’s mantra went straight to Slade’s cock. He tried not to be possessive. He knew that Dick needed to flit to his hand, that forcing himself on Dick would only drive Dick away. But when Dick said shit like that—it ignited Slade’s baser impulses.

Slade growled and hissed, “Condom?”

Dick giggled, and then reached to the side, fumbling with the drawer on his nightstand. Slade leaned over him to open it, and Dick nipped his nipple. Slade grunted and felt for the box of condoms, which he found without further dramatics. He pulled one out and rolled it onto his dick, batting Dick’s hand away the entire while.

“When you ask for it, you fucking asking for it, don’t you?” Slade growled, sheathing himself into Dick with one smooth motion. Dick arched, his back clearing the bed for several seconds before he relaxed again.

“Know what I want,” Dick smirked. “And I—ah!—chase it,” he added, stuttering only when Slade started moving.

“I don’t remember you doing any chasing,” Slade bit Dick’s neck again. “But I remember there being melodramatic text messages.”

Dick didn’t seem to have a response and Slade picked up his pace just a smidgen, just to make up for the time lost following Dick’s cellphone signal through the Gotham night.

“I should tie you up and whip you just for being in Gotham,” Slade snapped, sharpening his thrusts as he spoke. “This town isn’t easy to get in and out of without attention.” Dick grinned and leaned his head back.

“Yeah,” he giggled. “Probably.”

Slade finished first, and Dick followed shortly after. When they lay together, wrapped in each other’s sweaty limbs with Dick’s head tucked under Slade’s chin, Dick murmured. “You didn’t, like. Hurt Jason or anything?”

“Told you,” Slade sighed. “Threw him off a roof. He’s probably fine.”

Dick giggled again, and Slade had a long standing but unconfirmed suspicion that Dick liked being in trouble.

“He’s gonna kill me,” Dick laughed.

“Yeah,” Slade murmured. “Probably.”   

 


End file.
